Summer Languor
by hellohworld
Summary: Shion screams in the rain to conjure up a long-lost friend, waltzes across a room with the one he loves and savours every moment he spends in his arms. Post-series reunion, Nezumi/Shion.


_Summer Languor_

The first summer came too slowly for Shion, although he wasn't sure why his biological clock was behaving the way it did. After being appointed a member of the Reconstruction Committee with Karan, Shion spent the last few days of spring with his mother removing debris by hand, salvaging what they could from the ruins and lending a hand to other survivors.

There was so much to do day after day after day, and yet, it was hard falling asleep at night and impossible to wake in the mornings.

So Shion supposed it was just the days getting longer as spring wore away, they grew further from the vernal equinox and neared the summer solstice. Five o'clock sunsets would soon become seven o'clock dusks. What little vegetation left in the area would begin to ripen and mature. Fledglings born during the spring would have to leave their nests and learn to fly before winter could halt their ascension. Fireflies would awaken and light up the sultriest nights. Children would fill the streets with their laughter and their youth, buying popsicles and bubble-blowers in hordes and bringing out their mosquito nets to guard against summer's more formidable minions.

And Shion—Shion supposed that he would simply have to learn to move on from the Holy Day calamity. He would waste no time moping about, because he needed to remember where all the roads and infrastructure once were. After all, it was difficult to build a city from scratch, and the convoluted management of the Committee was a forever confusing and capricious muddle that often complicated matters to hilarious and ridiculous effect.

Needless to say, all the work kept Shion busy, and a busy Shion was a happy Shion.

* * *

><p>There were also comforts to be found in verses of books Shion remembered reading in Nezumi's library. He often thought about ancient cultures, the enormity of human history, and realised that Rome wasn't built in a day. It soothed some new, nervous part of Shion's heart, and gave him confidence that No.6 would become a better city than it had ever been before.<p>

It would have libraries filled with classic literature for the world to share, galleries full of untold wonders... and theatres, to showcase the emotional veracity and versatility of the human condition.

But tomorrow came today, and there were always mountains of paper on Shion's desk for him to plough through. So patiently, prudently, Shion built and fixed things one at a time. He made it a necessity to win a little victory every day, whether it was mastering his mother's cherry pie, chasing off Rikiga, visiting Inukashi, washing her hounds, or tickling his namesake, all so that they preoccupied him in the pockets of despondency he experienced through the more disagreeable tasks required of him.

And all of those small successes really did add up by the eve of autumn, when the heat dissipated along with the crude, belated fireworks that marked the departure of summer. After months of filling rivers full of blood, sweat and tears, the reconstruction of the city finally began to streamline when the temperature and the people cooled off. They then began to build districts full of homes, erect a memorial Shion could bring flowers to every week, and endeavoured to have at least a few schools and hospitals up and running again by autumn's end.

The days blurred soon after that, and No. 6 grew back so fast it was difficult for Shion to have kept up with everything that was happening in the hustle and bustle around him.

* * *

><p>Television broadcasting to No.6 was restored on Christmas Eve, and it was a miracle and a triumph that set yet another pillar of solidarity for the populace of No. 6.<p>

Shion celebrated with his mother on that cold December's night, feasting on lemon tarts, quiche and tea as they watched a documentary about the current state of No. 1.

It all began with mirth and expectations of a happy evening, but somewhere in the duration of the show both Karan and her boy were struck cold with a combination of shock and relief. Because behind a sea of people, confetti, and the colourful spectrum of gigantic parade floats that came in the shapes of dragons and dancers, there was a tallish, slender man who stood in the midst of it all with a squid-on-a-stick and a smile for the camera.

And Shion was convinced that he was Nezumi.

He didn't just vaguely resemble his friend, either. He had that same mellowed stance of his, with his free hand stuffed in the pocket of his trousers. His hair was the exact shade of indigo Shion had learned to love and his eyes evoked images of cloudy days and oh mercy, oh _happy day_, it was him, it was him, it was _him._

...Even if that wasn't much in helping Shion estimate when Nezumi would be back, at least he knew now that Nezumi was alive and well. And that was enough.

* * *

><p>It was after the cameo appearance of Nezumi that Shion finally began to move on with his life, although he never harboured the intention to forget through the next two years. There were still times when he harked back to the days he lived with Nezumi in the Western Block, when he would think about the rusty piano by the door, the smell of dust that coated the books, the mice on his lap, the taste of warm stew and... Nezumi—Nezumi's hands on his hands, Nezumi's lips on his lips, waltzing with Nezumi, and laughing with Nezumi.<p>

When he was naked in the shower, sometimes he would even thumb the snake coiled around his body and remember the night Nezumi saved his life for the second time, the night he was burning, burning, _burning_.

And then, whenever he had enough of that memory, Shion would imagine that Nezumi was right there with him. He would conjure up his image of porcelain skin, dark hair, gray eyes, and envision his long, calloused fingers ghosting down from his cheek to his neck, his chest and the bottom of his spine. And at that point, Shion would always laugh, because he knew that when—_if—_Nezumi ever came back, he would be disappointed to learn that Shion still knew nothing of sex.

He slowly built up his library, too, filling it with the works of Shakespeare and Wilde in the hopes that he might one day come close to understanding the inner workings of Nezumi. And every now and again, Shion read a few lines to himself before he tried his hand at reciting them. But Shion usually grew misty-eyed and crestfallen (he could never be as expressive or amazing as Nezumi), and placed the books back into their slots unread.

He danced, too, occasionally. Shion practiced the box step Nezumi had taught him, with Karan—when she wasn't busy with her own paperwork—and by himself when she was. But neither was quite like waltzing with Nezumi, because Karan didn't know how to lead, Shion could only follow, and the wind wasn't quite tangible, wasn't warm when Shion took it by its imaginary shoulder and threaded his hands through thin air. Not like Nezumi.

* * *

><p>And then the fourth year rushed by.<p>

By all means, there shouldn't have been anything especially extraordinary about it being the fourth year since No. 6's destruction, except that it was also four years since Nezumi had left, and eight years since they'd first met.

Eight years was a long time to have known someone. Four years was what it took for them to meet again the first time around, and made up a fifth of Shion's life now that he approached the grand young age of twenty.

Though Shion had half-expected some sort of New Year's surprise on the eve of January, it was only on a stormy summer's night that _all_ of these realities dawned on Shion. The numbers and calculations had riled up one by one, the missed opportunities and broken promises becoming so apparent they became rather too much to bear.

And that night, Shion almost broke.

* * *

><p>There was <em>plop <em>in Shion's sweetened coffee, and no, thank goodness, it wasn't a leak. But Shion touched the corner of his eye to discover that it was a tear.

"What day is it, Hamlet?" Shion said, taking the old mouse into his hands, "I can't seem to remember."

He squeaked once, and Shion scratched his head with the tip of his fingernail to thank him.

"Right. It's only Monday."

Shion looked outside to see the rain strum the muddy skeletons of homes not yet born.

And then, he got to thinking. Perhaps it was that Shakespearean program he had watched last night that had triggered his sudden feelings of... _blueness?_

It had featured ladies with flowers twined into their hair, rouged lips painted on powdered faces, linen robes hanging on feminine frames, and tragedy in all of their hearts. Eve had came to mind immediately, and Shion rather liked himself to keep away from things that reminded him too much of Nezumi, especially this year. Shion didn't want to over-think Nezumi's long, long, absence; he wouldn't like it if he kept space for false hope and in turn, paved a path for great disappointment.

But it had been eight years since they'd first met and four since he'd gone. Four years...

Shion let his head fall to his desk. He sniffled, and wiped his eyes and his nose with the back of his hand.

Sometimes, Shion hated himself for letting Nezumi go. Shion loved Safu dearly, but it most definitely hadn't been Nezumi's fault that she had died. If anything, it was because of all his mistakes that they could only get to her before it was too late. Shion hated that about himself, too. Had he made a move earlier, gotten in touch with Safu a little bit sooner, he might have fixed things.

Even so, Safu wouldn't have appreciated Shion's moping around. The best he could do for her now was live the life she'd given him as hard as he could as he helped build a better world and cherished all of the treasures scattered around him. Treasures such as spring breezes and cloudy moonlit nights and afternoon sunshine and Shion's mother and her baking and his friends and their laughter and everybody, absolutely everybody's smiles.

Yes, there were so many things that Shion had to thank Safu for... But he couldn't help but feel regret and remorse towards everything he didn't do. That maybe, if he hadn't exploded at Nezumi after their encounter with Safu, if he hadn't blamed him for her death, if he had just tried to convince him to stay, maybe, just _maybe _he would be with him now. But it was unfair to ground a star, wasn't it? And he'd promised to come back.

"You idiot," Shion mumbled. He wasn't sure if he was being especially self-deprecating today or accusing Nezumi of unintelligence. It was probably both.

Hamlet cocked his head in a very lovable, rodent-like way. Shion sighed, and scooped him some pumpkin seeds to munch on.

He looked back at the typhoon outside, the whipping winds and relentless rain oddly inviting at this time of day. Shion then stood up from his desk, approached his window, flattened his hand on the glass, and tried to see through the blinding haze of rain.

And he didn't know what to expect. That maybe Nezumi would pop in from the window to say hi, swing in and sweep him away to lands uncharted? The fantasy was ludicrous and inane, and yet, Shion could not rule out the traces of plausibility in such a scenario.

"Won't you come in through the window?" Shion's chest clenched as he slid his window open and stepped onto his balcony. "It's been years, Nezumi."

His hair instantly became heavy as the rain soaked into it. The wind was lukewarm and gloomy, his shoes were soon waterlogged and the rain dripped down his chin in torrents. He would probably catch a cold after that weird and wonderful episode of déjà vu, but Shion didn't have the heart to give his actions a second thought.

"_Neeezuuuumiiiii!_"

Shion didn't know if his tactic was really working, but given the fact that his heart felt as if it were coming out of his throat, it'd better have been. As Hamlet shivered at his feet, Shion put his hands tight over the railing to give himself more power and projection. And when he screamed enough for one lungful, he took in another gulp of air and screamed again. "Nezumi! Nezumi, Nezumi, Nezumi!"

"Oh, _Nezumi..._" Shion let go of the railing, cuddled Hamlet close and dropped to his knees. "Did it work?"

* * *

><p>The typhoon would last a week before it would be safe enough to go outside again, so for the rest of the week all members of the Reconstruction Committee were granted permission to work from home.<p>

Shion spent most of his half-holidays curled up on his couch with Tsukiyo, tea, pastries, and a mountain of paper at his side. Karan would miss the sight of the rains this year; however, as she would be spending her month at a long trading conference over at No. 5. The duration of which she would be accompanied by the likes of Rikiga, no less; he had been unpleased with the arrangement, and had rushed off to buy a train ticket that very morning, much to the amusement of Shion and Inukashi, who were left to roll over the floor in peals of laughter in light of the "romantic" gesture.

Shion smiled as he recalled the memory, but tried to concentrate on proofing the floor plans for an auditorium.

The big blueprint was too big, though, and seemed to extend beyond his arm span.

* * *

><p>As the night wore on, the storm grew increasingly tumultuous. Shion awoke in the middle of the night to wind wailing, lightning flashing, shutters clattering, Hamlet screeching and his sheets scattered around the room.<p>

And even though he couldn't really remember what he had been doing before he fell asleep, Shion could recall his dream with the lush knolls, aster flowers, mice, doomed lovers and giant bees with surprising lucidity. It was one of the crazier dreams he'd been having lately.

Shion held his palm to his forehead and grunted. Why had he forgotten to close the window?

Oh, that's right. He had to keep it open for—

Nezumi.

Shion sighed and made for the window. But before Shion's feet could reach the bottom of his bed and give his eyes a good rub, a silhouette of a figure idling at his window came into view. It was only then that Shion catapulted himself awake, scrubbing the sleep from his eyes as he looked on at the mystery intruder. Was he still dreaming?

He must have been, if Nezumi could stand before him in flesh and bone, looking more or less the same as he had four years ago. His hair was still worn in that twisted ponytail and shaggy fringe. The eyes that flashed under the lightning were still that exact blend of steel and feather, and his face was still handsome, unchanged and very _Nezumi_.

But Shion failed to move further than a step forward because he could not think of a way to approach the situation at hand. His heart was hammering and spinning with fireworks and rapture, but his feet felt like the lead of Nezumi's eyes. He could only stare, entranced and overwhelmed and convinced that it was all a dream, as Nezumi stumbled closer to him, lifted his right arm up tiredly, slowly, and wrapped it around Shion's neck.

And gosh, Nezumi was _so_ warm, too real to be a dream. Shion was spaghetti in Nezumi's arms, and collapsed under Nezumi's warm, wonderful load, to land on his bed with Nezumi a wet heap on top of him.

Then, Nezumi took his left arm, curled it under Shion's shirt and wrapped it around his waist. Shion didn't know whether to reach for Nezumi's beltline or arms or ribs or neck, so he settled with pressing both his hands to the back of his head, fingers trembling against Nezumi's scalp. Nezumi shook, as well, and if Shion didn't know any better, Nezumi was crying, too.

"Long time no see, huh?" Nezumi said softly.

"_Nezumi_," was all that Shion could manage. He could almost hear the sound of Nezumi's heart against his ear, so he held him tighter, tighter, until Nezumi's breath had drowned out the rain.

"I can't breathe, you know." But Nezumi didn't move and he didn't object when Shion squeezed him harder.

* * *

><p>After Shion changed into some dry clothes, and hopped around the kitchen making drinks and burrowing for food, Nezumi stepped out of his bathroom with nothing but a towel around his waist.<p>

Shion then sat down and found himself noticing little differences Nezumi had undergone in those four years away from him. He was still willowy, but taller, and had stronger limbs and new sinews. His face, however, remained unchanged with the exception of his eyes, which seemed to have become deeper and brighter than they once were.

Nezumi scoffed when his gaze crossed paths with Shion's. He grabbed his mug and muffin and took a seat next to him.

"Mmm." Nezumi smacked his lips and ignored Shion's ogling. "It's good."

Shion cracked a smile. "I baked them this morning."

"If you keep cooking up things at this rate, you'll be worthy of your mother's bakery in no time."

"Actually, she won't be opening up a bakery until No.6 is... properly restored."

"That's a damn shame." Nezumi scratched under his towel, which inexplicably made Shion tingle in strange and unfamiliar places.

"Um, I don't think any of my clothes'll be a comfortable enough fit you," Shion pointed out before expressing a small chuckle. Nezumi was still taller than him, and he thought it was just the slightest bit funny that he had hardly grown three centimetres from the year he turned sixteen.

"Over there." Nezumi sipped his drink and pointed towards the laundry, where there was a soggy bag that sat on top of the washing machine. Shion had hardly noticed it when Nezumi climbed in through his window and seeing it now only cemented his hope that Nezumi had come with the intention to stay.

There was a small clank as Nezumi placed his half-sipped cup on the table. Shion, who had been taking in every inch of Nezumi since he had come through his window, took note of the foam that coated his upper lip. So Shion raised his hand and smoothed a thumb over the milk smeared across the soft patch of flesh below Nezumi's nose, as carefully and gently as he could.

Nezumi in turn, put his hand over Shion's and rubbed the back of his fingers with his own. And chuckling as he sounded off a siren in Shion's heart, Nezumi bumped his forehead against his.

"Shion," he breathed.

Shion felt himself frown. "You're about four years late, Nezumi."

"What," Nezumi said, lifting a brow, "Is there a special somebody in your life now? Don't tell me you've learned something about sex already."

Shion swallowed and answered candidly, "N-no."

"Figures." Nezumi smiled softly. Shion licked his lips, and before he could try and grasp for some sort of retaliation, Nezumi caught him in a small, wet kiss.

"What sort of kiss is this?" said Shion very quietly, his mouth muffled against Nezumi's. He didn't expect Nezumi to hear him, but there was nevertheless no stopping the tingles tonight.

Then Nezumi pulled back, eyes softening before his persona abruptly changed into that of Eve's. His eyebrows were puckered up in pain and his teeth were on his lips to enhance his sense of vulnerability.

"I pray Your Majesty finds it in his heart to absolve this insolent fool for his tardiness," he said, tone light and fit for the stage. Then Nezumi jetted up all of a sudden—giving Shion a good electric shock—and raised his arms skyward for dramatic effect, although Shion found the fact that Nezumi's towel almost fell off more so. "Has this hapless knave been bequeathed the forgiveness of His Gracious Majesty?"

"Stop it," Shion chuckled nervously. Shion put his hand over the middle of Nezumi's chest and pushed him away. It was only a mild shove, but it caused Nezumi to tumble backwards and hit the back of his head against the coffee table.

"Oof, you idiot." Eve was gone and Nezumi was back. Shion wanted to cry. "That really _hurt._"

"Oh dear, I'm so sorry, I didn't mean—"

"Yes, you did." There are was no trace of resentment in Nezumi's voice, although fresh rows of moisture were distributed to his lashes. "But I deserved that."

"You didn't, I never, and you—" Shion jumped off the couch kneeled beside him. "Nezumi, I..."

"Don't kid yourself." Nezumi touched Shion's hair. All of Shion's unvented emotions bubbled at the base of his stomach. "I'm the bad guy here."

"No. I accused you that day before you—" Shion croaked, hiccupping, "—left, and I died. For one small moment, I honestly believed that you were using me so you could take number six from the inside out. And you told me that you were, but I knew you weren't really, because you looked after me for so long, you _saved _me again and again and _again_—"

Nezumi thrust a palm over Shion's mouth. "Well, for whatever it is you _think_ you've done, you're forgiven. Did you listen to what I just...?"

Calmly, Shion smiled. All those years spent with the weight of Nezumi's absence on his shoulders suddenly seemed a whole lot lighter.

"So these four years were my atonement?"

"No, it was mine. I—"

"But—"

"Shut _up_ and let me finish." Nezumi smirked and craned his neck so that it was outside of Shion's reach. "I was serious when I asked for your forgiveness."

And Shion didn't know what to say. It wasn't like being away from Nezumi was the end of the world (though if he had died, it probably would have been), and in saying that, Shion had never blamed him to begin with.

So Shion responded in the only way he knew how.

"Nezumi, there's nothing to be sorry for."

Nezumi then laughed his strident, loud laugh and put his hands over his eyes. It could have been the light playing tricks on him, but Shion was almost sure that he could see the smallest curve of a smile under the shadow of his fingers.

"I'm tired," Nezumi said, as the laughter died down and he let his hands fall to his side.

"I thought you were 'nocturnal'..."

"And you're still a kid and a brat; as annoying now as you were then." Nezumi grinned at Shion. "You haven't changed too much, have you, Shion?"

And for the first time since Nezumi had come back, Shion felt a trickle of contempt towards him.

"...Find out for yourself." Shion _hmpfh-_ed. He was also tempted to ask Nezumi to stay, _please_, but even though he wasn't very good at putting it out there, Shion knew that Nezumi understood subtext when he heard it.

Nezumi scoffed and flittered his eyes closed. He then raised one arm spectacularly, an invitation for Shion to lift him up. "Get me to bed, Shion."

* * *

><p>Shion wiped the sweat off his forehead as he finished warming up Nezumi's breakfast stew—full of potatoes, coriander, and the odd chunk of chicken. And although it was morning now and still showering, the day's temperatures continued to rise at a steady rate.<p>

"You're still so scrawny," Nezumi said with the faintest of smiles. He chucked Shion a muffin when he was steady enough to catch it. "Are you being fed properly?"

"Of course." Shion stared at him with a defiant eye and bit down on the muffin. Nezumi leaned over and rubbed Shion's hair affectionately. Then, there was a longish pause in which Shion looked a little too intensely into Nezumi's eyes. "Nezumi, do you remember that conversation we had four—four and a half years ago?"

"About what?"

"Our plans for the summer. We were underground, so I thought it'd be a comfortable place to stay. We would have had to cook outside, but when it rained..."

"Yeah, what about it?" Nezumi cut in.

"...It almost feels like we're living up to that plan," Shion said cheerily.

"We didn't quite manage to tick all your boxes."

Shion gulped and shivered upon remembering his boast to come up with a serum by the eve of spring, save Safu and knock down the wall. He cringed as he remembered his hopes of finally earning his happily ever with Safu, Karan and Nezumi all living with him under one roof.

"But the two of us are here," Shion said, looking down, "That should be something to be happy about."

"We were strangers then. We're not strangers now." Nezumi calmly took a bite out of his muffin. "That makes things a little different."

"I hope that means you'll be 'rooting down' instead of living life on a whim, then," Shion laughed. Despite his attempt to make it sound like a joke, Shion was a terrible actor and would probably appear much more sombre than he wanted to.

...Or maybe he had gotten better, because Nezumi simply laughed in his wild, feverish way. Shion was confused as to what he meant, but he wished with all his heart it stood in for "_yes"._

* * *

><p>There was much work to be done before No.6 could be restored to its former glory. So Shion worked super, super hard all week to justify all the nights he spent lazing around with Nezumi. He brought dozens of cups of hot coffee to the office for all his colleagues, tripped over files and stapled his thumb all in the crazy rush that was the journey home, because the last thing Shion would want was coming back to an empty house, no Nezumi, and a missed chance to say goodbye.<p>

* * *

><p>On Monday, Shion put on his safety helmet and stood fifty stories skyward to help with the construction of infrastructure. He was all wobbles and yelps as he traced around the scaffolding, and almost tumbled over the edge by the time his duty was done.<p>

On Tuesday, police staffing was sacrilegiously low and Shion had to take on the task of chasing down an assortment of tax evaders, lost family members and traffic offenders.

On Wednesday, the other committee members sent him to the hospital on a mission of reconnaissance. And although the hospital was clean and relatively orderly, there were problems with ventilation and mismanagement within the wards that doused all the sweat and energy out of Shion by the time he was dismissed.

On Thursday, he spent another long day at the office. There he nursed paper-cuts, discussed school syllabi, scrolled down his computer screen and often found himself wondering at regular intervals where the hell his mind had gone.

And by the end of Friday, _glorious _Friday, after five long days of slaving his time away without Nezumi, Shion felt a strange mixture of accomplishment, exhaustion and excitement; mostly because he had all of that night and the next to spend with Nezumi.

* * *

><p>"What the hell, why are you making so much soup tonight?" Nezumi groaned as he bucked back on the sofa. For once, the company of literary greats was not enough to quell the tedium of the day he'd spent lounging around the house, trying to remember how to play a piece on the piano and acting out scenes from ratty copies of Shakespearean tragedies. "...It's way too hot for soup."<p>

Nezumi blamed his mood on the heat and Shion's lateness. Both he and the weather were overwhelmingly tepid at eleven o'clock on a Friday night, and Shion usually came home before seven. Nezumi tried to fan himself with a thin copy of Macbeth but that didn't really help, either.

"I'm taking a trip to the orphanage, tomorrow," Shion chirped friendlily, expression growing increasingly solemn, "You wouldn't believe how many of them the Holy Day disaster made out of all those families."

Ah, Nezumi should've known from the start that Shion was up to something saintly. Putting _Macbeth_ down, Nezumi turned to watch Shion fumble around in the kitchen, and allowed himself the luxury of a secret smile. "Very altruistic, as always."

"They're very lovable," Shion added. Nezumi could hear the smile in his voice. "I think you'd like them too."

"Nah, I'm not nearly as patient as you," Nezumi said, muffling his flushing face into his hands. He heard Shion pour him a drink before he came up behind him with refreshments. "Wow, the summers really _are_ hot here."

"It would've been cooler down in your library storeroom, huh?" Shion said apologetically, handing Nezumi fresh lemonade and his mother's newest delicacy. "I'll see if I can get some air conditioning installed tomorrow."

Ice clattered against glass as Nezumi tossed his head back and glugged down the sweetish-sour pulp. He then took a bite out of Karan's fancy bread—which he would discover, was _delicious. _"What is this?"

"Lemonade and pizza sandwiches." Shion looked on with inquisitive eyes.

"It's _good_." He held up the loaf topped with tomato base, pepperoni and a multitude of other herbs and vegetables. "Ingenious name, too."

"Hey," Shion said, tousling Nezumi's hair, "There's no need to be snarky."

"But I mean it," Nezumi defended himself, gingerly raising his arms up in surrender, "It has a certain... endearing ring to it."

"Sure it does." Shion slumped down beside Nezumi, and closed his eyes for a few restful moments. "What a day."

"What a _week,_" Nezumi corrected him. "No wonder you're so skinny."

Shion did a little shrug, leaned forward and swept the sweat off his nape.

"Phew," Shion sighed, pulling the plastic wrapping off his own pizza sandwich before he dug in.

Nezumi threw his head back and stroked the perspiration off his own collarbone, and for the first time today, savoured the simplicity and mundanity a moment with Shion offered.

* * *

><p>"Hey, Nezumi," Shion said suddenly. He switched the television on to a programme about pollination. "I have tomorrow off work."<p>

Nezumi had to admit that he was interested. "Oh?"

Shion finished his sandwich and licked his fingers. Nezumi's mouth felt wet and he swallowed. "...Do you want to um, spend the day together?"

"A date?" Nezumi smirked. "Suave, Shion."

"Well, how about it?" Shion made a noise of agreement, seemingly missing the joke that Nezumi had made. "We need to buy you some summer clothes, anyway."

Nezumi groaned, and expected an oncoming embrace before he answered, "Alright."

And as Nezumi had predicted, Shion lunged for him.

"It's hot and you're heavy," Nezumi mumbled. He was just too lazy and too comfortable to pull back.

Shion simply chuckled, and hit the back of Nezumi's head with a soft rap of the hand.

* * *

><p>In the morning, Nezumi dressed in his coolest clothes and contemplated whether to anticipate or dread the day that awaited him as he and Shion rode off in his rickety old buggy.<p>

On the one hand, he had been given the chance to spend the day with Shion. On the other, however, they were speeding towards an orphanage full of _children_. They had five pots of soup in the trunk, and they rattled metallically as Shion braked his car over uncovered road.

Shion leaned back into the driver's seat and rested the heel of his hand on the wheel.

"You think you could give them a show today, Nezumi?"

"Absolutely not."

"You're boring."

"And you're wrong to think that I'll fall for that."

Shion gave him a disapproving glance and shut the door behind him. "At least help me with the soup."

Nezumi sighed and obliged him; Shion was the Lord King, after all. He looped around to the trunk, took a pot and moved where Shion directed him, all while watching the children crowd around Shion like he was their mother. They giggled and yapped and jumped as they reached for him and... Hell, knowing Shion, he probably _was _the closest thing those children had to a mother.

And the orphanage was an absolute _jungle._ Each child younger than the age of six had grubby fingers and could only communicate through shrieks, while the older children were decidedly impolite and dispassionate. Lego blocks and dinosaurs and skipping rope were littered across the floor, and it was hard for Nezumi to move two paces without feeling like he was about to fall.

"Don't worry," Shion assured him, smiling his eyes shut, "We won't be staying for lunch."

* * *

><p>Shion bit down on his Caesar wrap lunch and scattered some crumbs under his feet for the pigeons. The summer sun was hot and unmerciful as it bore down and over their heads.<p>

"We're in the process of building a theatre, Nezumi."

"A theatre! When's the next show?"

"Sometime next year," said Shion, taking another bite out of his wrap, "We're thinking of a stage production of _The Happy Prince_."

"Oh ho, just what this city needs," Nezumi laughed, leaning back on his chair and wiping the sweat off his brow, "A sentimental tale of love, philanthropy and the enmity that is poverty."

"It's a story about overcoming adversity, generosity, loyalty and friendship, too..."

"No. 6 doesn't need another martyr." Nezumi munched his lunch thoughtfully, and Shion was left to wonder what he meant. "But I think you'd make a convincing Happy Prince. The role's written all over you, so you wouldn't even need to act."

Did Nezumi ever, _ever _make up his mind? "Wh—"

"Shion, No. 6's very own Happy Prince, gilded over with thin leaves of moonstone," Nezumi said, sliding his fingers through Shion's hair until it reached the arch of his brow, "and two bright eyes of rarest ruby."

"And you would be my Swallow?" Shion thought for a moment about the loyal little bird who had flown across Egypt and wandered the world, but had always stopped for love, and had to admit that he liked his idea.

"Well," Nezumi said, stopping at the scar on Shion's cheek, "I wouldn't miss His Majesty's coronation for the world."

* * *

><p>Nezumi was astounded at how Shion kept himself together through the myriad tasks peppered to him throughout the day. If Shion had so much to do on one of his "days off", Nezumi couldn't even begin to imagine how much work Shion managed to get done on a busy day.<p>

By the time Shion was able to show Nezumi around the new park, they had already collected Nezumi's bundle of summer wear (their favourite item of which was a cheesy shirt that read 'MYSTERY MOUSE' on the front), reunited a lost child with his mother, helped deliver a parcel for a stranger and fixed about seven Sanpo robots.

It was only then that the sun began to set, the air cooled and a pleasant kind of warmness poured through the city. It was good weather for a stroll.

"This is where the correctional facilities once were," Shion said, motioning to the terraced gardens and elegant fountain.

"What a welcome change." Nezumi remembered dank, dark waterways and cells where a playground now stood, and felt a needle prick his spine.

Shion smiled. He directed his finger at a fairly abstract statue of what looked like a bee.

"There's the memorial," he said wistfully.

Shion approached a young girl with a basket of flower wreathes slung on her wrist, and gave her two dollars and a smile. He received a garland of lilies and asters in return, and went meandering towards the giant bee.

"She comes here earlier than the sun does and later than it goes," Shion said, placing his offering near the many others under the plague, "Her older sister's the only family she's got left."

Nezumi was sure that Safu had been one of the names engraved on the memorial. With nausea clouting his stomach, Nezumi bought another wreathe from the girl and placed it next to Shion's.

"Looks like you've done a commendable job these past four years," said Nezumi, feeling rather glum as he skimmed the names etched into the plaque, "I knew you'd be fine."

"It's because everyone's been so helpful... Safu, my mother, Lili, Inukashi and even Rikiga," Shion laughed, standing up, "They're doing their best for everyone, and I don't want to let them down."

* * *

><p>The heat had become more bearable now that the sun had come down, though the air still gusted against them in waves of thick, sultry wind. With sticky-sweet popsicles dripping down their chins, Nezumi and Shion were ready to head back home.<p>

"Say, what's that lady doing?" Nezumi pointed to a woman some metres away from them, barking up a tree. He wiped the slush off his chin.

"Excuse me, miss?" Shion said. He could hear the ice shift in Nezumi's mouth. "Is everything okay?"

She had a pale complexion and sweat and panic dotted all over her face. "What polite young boys!" she cried, tugging at her gray hair and flowery dress, "Oh, please, if you would be so kind to help me—my kitten—she's stuck in a tree."

"Nezumi." Shion turned to Nezumi in all earnestness. "Would you give me a lift?"

"A lift?" Nezumi snorted. "It's forty degrees."

"Was," Shion corrected, wiping some persistent, wet strands of hair out of his eyes. There was a desperate mewl from the branch above.

Nezumi puckered his brows and scowled before he yielded.

"_Fine." _He squatted, put his popsicle stick into his chest pocket and patted his shoulder. "Up you go."

"Thanks," Shion sang as he scrambled up on Nezumi's shoulders. "And I'm sorry if—"

"Just make it quick," Nezumi grumbled as he tightened his fingers around Shion's knees and they wobbled their way up the boughs of the tree.

Shion quickly spotted the tabby tufts of fur obscured slightly by patches of large, green leaves. Holding on to a piece of bark, Shion brushed away some twigs and met with large chatoyant eyes. "What a pretty kitty."

"Hurry _up,_" Nezumi grated beneath him. Although sitting on Nezumi's shoulders made the both of them a little shaky, Shion trusted him enough to keep them unharmed.

"Alright," he said, wrapping his fingers around the soft pelt of the little critter, "I've got her."

"Finally." Nezumi pushed Shion off his shoulders with such force that Shion's heart stopped for one split second. There was a shrill meowing when Shion dropped, clutching the kitten, and Nezumi caught him in a cradle of arms.

"Hey, what—" It was a relief to see the cat safe and sound. Nezumi's sinews were firm and warm curled under Shion's knees and around his neck. The kitten's owner sung her praises loud and high in the background.

"Be grateful I didn't let you break your ass this time," Nezumi said, delicately placing Shion on the ground. "Rats don't like cats."

Shion's heart melded back into solid shape, though his breath was still taking its time to return to him. He petted the kitten one last time, and gave a smile to the lady as he returned the tabby-cat back to its owner.

"Regardless of the secret phobias you've been hiding from me, you didn't have to scare me like that," Shion all but hissed as he turned back to Nezumi and punched him in the arm.

"Yes, yes, Your Majesty," Nezumi laughed, rubbing his shoulder and grinning like a lunatic, "...Shall we head home then?"

"Gladly," Shion said, exhaling sharply as he darted off into the heat.

* * *

><p>The first thing Nezumi seemed to notice when they returned from their walk was the surprise addition to Shion's home.<p>

"_Air conditioning?_" he exclaimed happily, taking a long stride towards the benefactor, "You're a champion, Shion."

"Oh—" In one fell swoop; Nezumi grasped Shion by the waist, meshed their fingers together and knocked the breath out of his lungs.

"You remember how to do this?" Nezumi sang. He hummed and began to bounce around. Shion tried desperately to grasp at the rhythm, but failed miserably as he lurched around in circular staggers.

_One-two-three, one-two-three..._

"Nezumi, why are we dancing?"

"There always has to be a reason with you," he sighed, steps becoming increasingly complicated, "I made some happy memories today and I'll be damned if you didn't, too. So we're celebrating. Isn't it a lovely night?"

"Yes, b-but..."

"Hey, look at me," Nezumi corrected Shion, raising his chin to level with his gaze, "That's better. What'd I tell you about not looking down?"

"It's—it's just—" Somehow, glancing up to delve in Nezumi's serenity made Shion stumble less. "I didn't think you could find anything to celebrate... with me. Don't I bore you?"

"Bore me?" Nezumi thrust his arm forward so that Shion could do an awkward spin out and back into his arms. "If you bored me, I wouldn't have come back for you."

"Don't I make you angry?"

"If you keep asking so many goddamned questions, you will."

"...Just one more," he murmured, sidestepping in the right direction for the first time, "...Am I hopeless?"

"Absolutely."

"Oh and—"

"_Shion."_

"This'll be the last one," Shion promised, twirling competently, "I promise."

Nezumi frowned and he thrusted his left heel forward. "Fine."

"...I think it was wrong of you to leave," Shion said, his heart growing lighter, "I was anguished and angry, and I regretted everything we could've done, but didn't. I missed you so much, Nezumi."

"That wasn't a question, but—" Nezumi's face went blank before he said, very, very quietly, "I'm... sorry."

"There's no need to apologise," Shion said, nestling into the hollow at the base of Nezumi's damp throat, "I felt all those things towards myself as well, and having you here with me now, it..."

"Shion," Nezumi said, cutting Shion's sentence short with a swift flex of his arm. Nezumi dipped Shion and before he could say anything more, planted a little, teasing kiss in the middle of his throat.

And oh, it felt like nothing Shion had ever known. It was release and euphoria and forgiveness and more.

He heaved his head back and let out a chortled whimper. Nezumi's lips still lingered as ghosts on his skin, and they sent a chorus of electric angels singing through every cell in his body.

"Again," Shion gasped, trembling against and grasping at Nezumi's shoulders, "Oh, please do that again."

When Shion dared to gaze at Nezumi, a pair of brilliant, gray eyes stared back at him with amusement and what Shion hoped was tenderness.

"You sure?" He put his palm flat on the middle of Shion's wetted neck, and moved ever so slowly up cool droplets of sweat to touch the curl of his jaw. With the brush of a fingernail, Nezumi marked the spot he would claim with a sliver of tongue.

"That's really n-nice." Shion ran a hand over the perspiration on his forehead and neck and back and tried to control the convulsions in his stomach. "I'd like for you to continue."

"It'd be my pleasure, then," Nezumi obliged.

The beat of Nezumi's heart threaded through his hands and onto Shion's skin as he ran his fingers over the scar on his neck. It tingled, and oh goodness, Shion couldn't take much more.

Shion held Nezumi tight around the ribs, warmth and heat and _them_ all the same thing as he steered them to land on the couch.

He tugged at the slick of skin and sweat on Nezumi's spine and awkwardly peeled the shirt over his head, hands and mouths everywhere in twists and turns. They plunged and knotted and breathed into one another, and made sure that no sanctuary of flesh would be left unkissed by the time the night was over.

* * *

><p>"What's death like, Shion?" Nezumi blinked at Shion as he shifted on the pillow they shared. "Teach me something for a change."<p>

"Um." Shion stared up at the ceiling and thought about how he might approach the subject. "...It's a very grim place. There's no music, no laughter, no food, no rain, no waltzing. And I couldn't find Safu," he said, breath hitching, "Worse yet, it's a world without my mother. A world without you."

"So it is." Nezumi tucked a knee between Shion's legs and looked at Shion blearily. "Did it hurt? Dying, I mean."

"I don't know." Shion shrugged. "Try it yourself sometime."

"I'll pass," Nezumi mumbled, lids drooping over his eyes.

Crickets chirped, rain fell and frogs croaked in the comfortable silences Shion and Nezumi left for each other.

But before either of them could fall to sleep, Nezumi shuffled close to Shion and kissed him goodnight. Shion curved a smile against his lips, ran a lulling hand over Nezumi's temple and murmured sleepily, "See you tomorrow."

* * *

><p>Dust and sunlight filtered through the shutters and hit the top of Nezumi's eyes.<p>

Conscious of the elbow Shion had on his rib; Nezumi shifted his arm so that he could have a fuller look of his face. Nezumi had sorely missed the sight of Shion's bed-hair. It folded and spiked to the right, and it made him look windswept, _adorable._

And by all means, Nezumi should have told Shion that it was all one big load of bullshit and left when he had kissed him yesterday. He should have told him that he had no right to keep him here, that he would leave if staying with Shion meant living the rest of his life so aimlessly, so _selflessly_. But he hadn't, even if he had hardly belonged, because he _wanted _to be with Shion. A small part of him _needed _to be, and he knew that a part of Shion did too. Being around him made Nezumi calm; it filled him with inexplicable happiness. Shion—with his silly, sheer selflessness—gave Nezumi's life _purpose_.

He had spent years wandering abandoned trailer parks and lonely forests, dusty wastelands and ebullient seas, only to end up back where he started. So somewhere in the midst of that journey through the six cities and beyond, Nezumi had experienced an epiphany. When Shion had died that day four years ago, his loss was like nothing Nezumi had ever known. Shion's heart—his warmth—everything he had shared with Shion since that fateful, stormy night eight years ago had shaped his life, made him who he was today, and Nezumi would be a fool to pass that up.

Nezumi was just pissed at the fact took him almost half his life to find the answer to a no-brainer. But now that he had so many years to think it through, it seemed that Nezumi finally understood that a world without Shion was hardly a world at all.

Nezumi was careful not to wake Shion when he climbed out of the bed. He picked up his boxers and the MYSTERY MOUSE shirt Shion had given him yesterday. It was nowhere as thick as the jumper Shion had gifted him eight years ago, but wearing it made his heart as light and warm as the jumper had. Nezumi traced the whiskers of the big gray mouse printed on his chest, and smiled.

Outside, the sun made its way over a panorama of defined developments and distant mountains. The sky was in the same position as the day he had left, and the clouds a similar blend of red and orange. But today there would be no grievous goodbyes, no dramatic denouement. Back then, Nezumi had left to find purpose in his life again. After the wall came crashing down and No.6 finally fell, Nezumi had also achieved everything he had built his life around. But now—but now...

"G'morning." Interjecting Nezumi's train of thought, Shion came up behind him with his buttons undone and sleeves hanging loose around his wrists. "Nice day, isn't it?"

"Yeah," Nezumi said, and let silence fill the top of the balcony.

Shion looked out into the distance, at vestiges of stars and the shadow of the sleeping moon. Nezumi would have been surprised if Shion wasn't thinking of his worst fears in that little moment; his eyes pierced the splendour of the dawn with surprising ferocity.

"Please promise me something, Nezumi."

"Eh?"

"No more farewell kisses," he said sadly. Shion's eyes were wet. "Just—if you're gonna kiss me again; make it another kiss of oath. I don't think I could—"

"And no more lies," Nezumi added, hanging his head low, "I thought we'd already had this conversation four years ago."

"Then why did we have sex last night?" Shion glared full ahead. He raised a hand to his neck to touch the flower Nezumi had left behind his ear. "I lost count of the amount of times you kissed me and I kissed you back."

"_Idiot._" Nezumi had to resist laughing and blushing and thinking back to the sight of a naked, beautiful Shion. "You thought I was saying goodbye last night?"

"Well," Shion said, drifting away, "We can't really look at it quite in the way of reproductive instinct; neither of us carries the second X-chromosome required for—"

"Shion, you really are the smartest bonehead in existence." Nezumi groaned. "Goodnight kisses, kisses of oath, it doesn't matter in the end. Sometimes people kiss; sometimes they have sex because they want to, because it feels good, because humans are warm and we want to share that warmth."

"Ah—" Shion lit up like a light bulb and Nezumi earned his first smile for the day. "I understand."

"And what the hell made you think I was leaving, anyway?" Nezumi closed his eyes and smirked, holding Shion at arm's length. "I haven't met your mama yet. And with nightmares running loose in herds here and a bird-brained Committee member like you, it looks like you'll need an extra hand."

Shion's tendons tightened under Nezumi's hands. His eyes were coloured with the sunrise, irises almost liquefying in the dawning sun. They trembled and burned like comets, leaving trails of fire that danced with the snowy stardust of his hair.

"You'd... stay?" It was halfway between a squeal and a wheeze. And just for now, they were the only people in the world.

"I would."

"_Nezumi_, that's—I... You promise?"

"I promise."

And it was then that Shion flailed into Nezumi's arms, legs afloat and elbows a vice around Nezumi's neck.

"Thank you," Shion said, before Nezumi whispered a million more.

**_fin._**

* * *

><p><strong>17th October: <strong>Did another check for errors. Thank you so much for the favourites, everyone. Although, it would be nice hear your thoughts in the form of comments or whatnot. So please hit that review button if you find enough time to do so. Praise or concrit, all forms of feedback are welcome!

**A/N: **I like tragedy and ambiguous and/or inconclusive endings. But I just can't do that to these boys because they really, _really_ deserved a happy ending and were cheated out of one damnit.

I finished the anime in two sitings. Almost immediately after, a flood of inspiration came for this slice-of-life fansequel, which took ten days to write. Most of it was produced in the first five days, and five more were spent rewriting and editing all of it, taking out bits and pieces and adding stuff in. I like the raw form this oneshot is in, because if I hadn't posted it tonight I might never have gotten around to it. Either way, I hope you enjoyed the fic, which is happily and snugly located on the idealistic side of the consummated-reunion spectrum. I'll definitely hang around for a while and keep reading and writing for this wonderful series.


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